Killer
by mooncheese1331
Summary: One of the club has it out for the rest-except one. Who is it? This is what Fire was becoming, so I deleted Fire and made this! Rating should be a level down from M, so like a T plus plus
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I know this is really confusing for those of you who started to read Fire. Well, I deleted that. I have a much better idea for this fic, which is what Fire was becoming. Here's the fun part: You guess who's next. Except for this chapter. This chapter is a chapter, but it's more of a prolauge.

/

Brittany sat in her room, hugging her knees to her chest. She hated being stupid, otherwise she would understand this. The text she got had said three words- **I love you**.

She was so confused. This wasn't Santana's number, so why was someone telling her that they loved her?

She shook it off.

/

Rory crumpled into a ball as another blow struck him, his head landing on the sidewalk. He realized that he was being mugged.

The killer stood above him, with a knife raised. He danced it across Rory's scared form, then applied a tiny bit of pressure to his cheek.

Rory screamed.

The killer backed away, only to return with a lit match. In one swift motion, Rory was on fire.

The killer ran out of the dark alley, calling over his shoulder, "I never liked you, Rory."

/

The club received a text.

"One down, 15 to go."


	2. Chapter 2

The club stared down at their phones. They simultaneously called each other, and decided to make it a conference call.

"Okay, what the hell does that mean?" Puck asked feverishly.

Their phones all rang and a text read:

**It means that you will almost all die. Because I am nice, I will give you a pattern to follow:**

**Brutal.**

**Scary.**

**Harmless.**

**Sad.**

**Deadly.**

**Sudden.**

**Abrupt.**

**Untimely.**

**Depressing.**

**Homocide.**

**Simple.**

**Russian.**

**Never.**

**Me.**

The club was scared out of their skins.

"So, what does this tell us?" Finn asked.

"I don't know." Was a muffled reply, from Rachel.

"Yes you do." The club told her.

She blushed. "Well, you can tell that the killer is following a pattern according to their hatred of someone. For example, Scary must mean that the death will scare us, which could mean that the killer just wants to freak us out. Harmless could mean that it's just someone that would be in their way, so they want it to be painless. The others I don't know, but Homocide probably means that number ten will be gay. Russian could mean a variety of things, but my best guess is Russian Roulette. And Never means that whoever this is will kill us all except one."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

"No Quinn, it wasn't me. Do you honestly think that little-?"

She was cut off by another mass text.

**Barbra is right. Now I will tell you my way of signaling your death. If you find a postcard from Granny Sanders anywhere, you will die next. The police have been bribed.**

The club was now scared out of their wits.

/

The victim's blonde hair swooshed in the sun. On their porch they found a postcard.

It read in all caps, SCARY. Love, Granny Sanders.

The victim gulped and glanced around.

Just then the killer sprung.

"Don't worry; it'll only be scary for the club, not you."

With this he slashed their throat.

/

**LMK WHAT YOU THINK! By the way I already figured out everything for this fic so suggestions may help but I already know who the killer is, who's gonna die in what order, blah blah blah. I will post my own HGlist(Hit Glist) after the fic is done.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Two down, 12 to go.**

This text caused mass panic as Rachel conferenced called everyone.

Quinn sent out a text. "It was Sam." She attached a picture, obviously taken by the killer, of Sam with his neck slashed and his six pack carved.

"Holy shit." They all wrote back.

/

The killer waited in the shadows near a berry bush. They waited until a certain blonde victim was halfway in the house, and he sprung.

They watched as they opened the door, a card tumbling out that read **HARMLESS. Love Granny Sanders**. He crept up behind the horrified-and confused- person and whispered in their ear, "Follow me, your death will be painless, but only if you follow me."

The victim nodded.

They found themselves in the middle of a meadow. The killer handed them two pills, and they took them as he held a gun to their head.

The killer started humming and collected the body, brought it up to their bedroom, and tucked it in as if it were sleeping.

/

The killer was obviously crazy. He showed all exterior signs of it, and having the one girl he truly loved stolen was enough to put anyone over the edge. If you were clinically insane, that is.

He crossed the short length of his apartment to a table with 14 pictures on it.

In a line they were set up randomly, the one spot where he didn't let his perfectionistic ways shine through.

After crossing off another, he went to bed and fell asleep, knowing that one of those on his hit list weren't actually going to die.

/

The club didn't know someone was dead yet.

So on Saturday, another victim was walking home. As they neared the bus stop, the killer dropped a postcard from behind the bushes in his path.

SAD. Love, Granny Sanders.

They gulped and called their love.

"Hey, it's me, I just found a postcard. I love you so much."

With this they hung up and looked around.

The killer appeared from behind the bushes and led them to a field.

"Look, take these pills. I'm not that bad, I just want to make one of you go crazy like in that book _And Then There Were None_. So take these. I'll only make it look sad."

He handed him some numbing pills and the victim swallowed helplessly. They watched as the killer took a picture of their now mauled body and sent it.

Black.


	4. Chapter 4

They were all horrified as they received a text.

**Only ten left.**

Rachel had taken on the role of makeshift leader, so she called everyone. Everyone except Tina, Mike, Quinn, and Brittany had answered.

The club decided that the best way to determine who was dead and who was not was to go around to people's houses.

They gathered at the Lima Bean and headed to Brittany's house.

Sure enough, a bright-eyed Brittany appeared at the door. Once they explained what had happened they were on their way to Mike's house.

When no one answered they ran around the back to find it unlocked. They entered and found Tina sobbing in his room. They knew immediately what had happened.

After all of them had a good cry they walked over to Quinn's, dreading what they would find.

Brittany knew where the spare key was, so they let themselves in. Quinn's mom was out of town for the week, another Jesus Booze Cruise.

They stepped in and Santana led them to Quinn's room. They found her asleep, in her bed.

At least that's what it looked like.

Rachel tentatively stepped forward, and turned Quinn over

"She's cold." She muttered. Rachel felt for a pulse and a tear fell when she didn't find one.

She turned around and glared accusingly at the rest of the club. One of them was the killer, they had to be.

They all timidly reached for their phones, waiting for them to go off with a text.

They called Quinn's mom and left a sobbing mess.

/

The killer stood behind the brunette as they neared their house. He watched another grieving tear fall. He grinned as he wordlessly handed them a postcard.

He pressed the cool metal of a gun into their back and lead them to a field.

"Deadly." He whispered with a smile on his lips.

He shot.

/

**9. You need to pay attention. Notice: I am getting bored.**


	5. Chapter 5

**9. You need to pay attention. Notice: I am getting bored.**

The club's phones all flashed with the depressing message. They all called each other and everyone but Mercedes and Tina picked up.

Rachel finally got through to Tina. Which meant that Mercedes was dead. Gone. Blasted from their minds by one of their own.

**Just a reminder:**

**Brutal.**

**Scary.**

**Harmless.**

**Sad.**

**Deadly.**

**Sudden.**

**Abrupt.**

**Untimely.**

**Depressing.**

**Homocide.**

**Simple.**

**Russian.**

**Never.**

**Me.**

The club stared with shock at the text.

They had almost forgotten about the list of ways to die. They knew for sure the club was the only target, so it made sense that one of the club was the killer.

But who would be so twisted?

The club was muttering incoherently when one of the members gasped.

"What?" they all chorused.

"I-I found Mercedes." Kurt said.

"And?" they prompted.

"She's definitely dead."

Rachel responded for them. "We'll find you."

/

The next victim walked out of their house to the field that the club was meeting at.

The killer followed silently behind them, counting the steps they took.

The victim rounded the corner.

The killer followed.

The killer took a small knife from his trench coat.

The victim approached the clearing.

The killer threw the knife.

The victim fell.

The killer approached the clearing, shedding his trench coat.

He put on a shocked expression as he approached the others. He pressed a button on his phone, sending the pre-typed message to everyone-including himself.

**8 to go. **

/

**WHO DO YOU THINK IS NEXT? Tell me! **


	6. Chapter 6

The club all arrived in the clearing-gone-crime scene. The club was all there except for Tina and Rachel. Neither could be found until Rachel came through the woods as white as a ghost. She held up a postcard that read **Sudden. Love your Granny Sanders.**

"T-Tina. She's dead."

The club turned to each other accusingly.

Artie, who had pretty much been silent and crying this entire Spring Break, voiced up, "I think it's Finn."

Finn glared at him but made no comment. Puck pointed at Rachel, who pointed at Artie, who pointed at Sugar, who pointed at Santana, who pointed to Blaine, who pointed to Brittany-to everyone's dismay-, who pointed at Kurt.

The killer felt around his pocket for the small gun he carried. He squeezed it comfortingly, knowing that its release would cause his temporary minion to shoot another victim.

He winked in the direction of the minion. He caught a flash of brown hair and eyes before he got a ghostly pale look on his face. Jesse better do good on his promise.

He felt himself even start to become shocked. He caught a glimpse of goose bumps on his arm. Seriously, if he wasn't going to kill himself, he could be an actor. Unknown to him, two others caught the brown haired boy moving.

Artie, Puck, and Finn all fired at the same time.

The club turned to them with an accusatory glare.

"Oh like none of you have been carrying protection against this guy." Puck scoffed.

Just then, the unmistakable sound of a sniper hit its victim. They fell to the ground.

The club's phones buzzed.

**That was rather…Abrupt. Only seven left…watch your backs. Next is Untimely. I'm getting bored again. But don't worry, I'll continue this game. And if I were you, I'd kill for the chance to live. **


	7. Chapter 7

**That was rather…Abrupt. Only seven left…watch your backs. Next is Untimely. I'm getting bored again. But don't worry, I'll continue this game. And if I were you, I'd kill for the chance to live.**

The club stared with shock at their phones. The killer mimed sadness as he fingered the gun again.

"KURT!" Rachel finally screeched.

Blaine fell to the ground beside his dead boyfriend and wept. The killer almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Puck looked around. "Okay, who is it?"

The club stared at each other.

"Well, I think we should try to figure out who's gonna die next."

The killer winked at his temporary minion again, giving the starting signal.

"I agree."

"Disagree."

"Skip town."

Choruses of agreement and disagreement came from the club's scared lips.

"Okay, well, let's figure out who's gonna die and then the killer from out list." Rachel reasoned.

They drew a chart on the ground.

**Finn**

**Puck **

**Sugar**

**Artie**

**Santana**

**Rachel**

**Blaine**

**Brittany**

Under that they wrote a list of the remaining deaths.

**Untimely.**

**Depressing.**

**Homocide.**

**Simple.**

**Russian.**

**Never.**

**Me.**

"Okay, so what we can assume from this is that one person will not die. But two people will have to die at once, otherwise two people would never die." Rachel reasoned. The club nodded.

After much debating the club came up with this:

**Untimely.-Finn**

**Depressing.-Rachel & Sugar**

**Homocide.-Santana**

**Simple.-Blaine**

**Russian.-Brittany**

**Never.-Artie**

**Me.-Puck**

"Look you guys, you can search me, but I don't have a friggin sniper, any postcards, all I have is a gun that I keep so _I won't die._"

The club looked at him and then a brilliant thought struck the victim.

"Whoever this is," the club looked pointedly at Puck, "They must have an alterior motive."

"Yeah, someone would have to have a vendetta or something." someone agreed.

The victim nodded. "Yeah, and-" they were cut off by the sound of a bullet, and the club watched as they fell to the ground.

**That was untimely. She almost figured out my game. Seven deaths to go.**


	8. Chapter 8

Finn fell to the ground as Rachel did, his eyes glassy.

The club checked their phones and jumped when they all rang.

**That was untimely. She almost figured out my game. Seven deaths to go.**

"Whoever did this is going to fucking die." he said.

Brittany came over to comfort him as he cried into his hands.

Sugar and Puck stared at the chart the club made. No use in that now, it was obviously not going to happen like that.

"Mr. Schue. We need to find Mr. Schue." Finn muttered. The club nodded.

How were they going to explain this?

Finally Brittany called him, saying that it was really important and they'd be at his apartment in ten minutes.

/

"So, what's going on? Where's the rest of the club?" Mr. Shue was highly confused.

"One of us-we don't know who-has been…k-killing the others." Santana stumbled out.

The killer shifted nervously, but no one noticed.

Mr. Schue laughed. "That's funny guys."

The remainder of the club shook their heads. "We can show you the bodies. He has a tendency towards a certain field. We assume it's a he because Santana wouldn't do that to Brittany, people already think Sugar's dad's in the mafia-so why would she do the dirty work herself, and Brittany's…Brittany." Blaine explained.

"Yeah, and he gave us a pattern to follow. Look." Finn said, showing him the series of texts.

Mr. Schue paled.

"Follow us." Artie instructed and he led them out the door.

/

Mr. Schue turned away as he saw Mercedes, Rachel, and Kurt. Unbeknownst to them, pretty much all the people had died near or in this field.

Mr. Schue shed a few tears, which then turned to sobs.

The killer smiled, but made it look sympathetic.

"How?" He asked, but Artie understood.

"The first was Rory-it looked like he was set on fire. That would be **Brutal**. The second was Sam, which was **Scary**-he slashed his throat, carved around his abs, and sent a picture to Quinn. Next was Quinn, which was **Harmless**-we found her lying in her bed. I think this guy gave her suicide tablets. Then was Mike, who was **Sad**-he mauled him. Then Mercedes, who was **Deadly**-GSW to the back, killing her instantly. Tina was **Sudden**-she must have been surprised. Kurt was **Abrupt**-he was in front of all of us but no one could stop the sniper that came from the woods. And Rachel died a few minutes ago in an **Untimely **manner-another sniper right as she figured out who the killer is."

Mr. Schue looked at them with shock. How they could be so strong-and calm-during such a bad time was beyond him.

"Okay, so we know that one person will survive. This means that the killer either really loves that person, or hates them so much they want them to live with being alone and have survivor's guilt." Sugar reasoned.

"Yeah, and we don't know who." Puck said.

Mr. Schue held his head in his hands and sighed. "I don't pretend to know what's going on, but it doesn't sound like we can go to the police about this. Let's all get some sleep and regroup tomorrow."

The club nodded with him.

"If anyone has any other information, please tell us now."

Brittany timidly raised her hand. Mr. Schue nodded at her.

"Okay, so a few days ago, I got a text and I don't know the number but all it said was **I love you**. I don't know who it's from but a few minutes later I found out Rory died."

Finn took her phone and read through the messages. He grimaced when he found a particular one with Santana that depicted exactly what Santana would do to Brittany. He blushed and then scrolled down until he found the single text.

He sighed. "Brittany did you ever put Rory's number in your phone?"

Brittany shook her head. "I find my phone confusing. I didn't know how the buttons worked until Santana showed me."

The club shook their heads and turned their attention back to Finn. Finn shook his head, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"This is Rory's number. He must have sent this to anyone he felt close to."

The killer smiled. Rory was dead when that text was sent. He knew full well where that text came from, and it sure wasn't the hands of Rory.

He loved this game.

/

The two victims walked home together. They were cousins, after all. Little did they know, the killer was right behind them. He grabbed them and dragged them back to the field.

He bound them to two chairs he had moved to the center of the field, and gagged them. He made them face each other as he slipped them two numbing pills each.

Before he started he spoke. "I know you guys hate me, but this is necessary for my vendetta. Take the pills, they'll ease your pain."

The victims looked at each other and nodded. They took the pills as a tear rolled down each of their cheeks.

The killer took out a gun and shot them both. He didn't like killing, but it was necessary. He took a steakknife and embedded it in one of their heads, then fired round after round at the other. He snapped a picture and sent it to the rest of the club.

**This is what happens when you ask the wrong questions. This is rather Depressing, don't you think? Only five left. Four deaths.**


	9. Chapter 9

Santana was curled in a ball as she slept next to Brittany, whose parents were out of town.

"_What do you want?"_

"_Your death."_

_He threw a knife and it hit her eye. He pulled out a gun and shot at her shins, so she couldn't run away. He tied a rope around her wrists._

_His face kept changing._

"_You slut. You think you're so great. Look how easily I got you."_

_She spit at him. He raised a knife to her throat. He cut in ever so slightly, only enough that a tiny bit of blood was drawn. She winced. He walked around to her back. She had tears streaming down her face as he plunged a dagger into her shoulder blades._

_He untied her wrists and lay her down in the clearing. He rolled up her shirt and cut around her abs. He pulled back and with one final motion set her on fire._

_Black._

Santana woke up when she felt a slap to her face.

Brittany was sitting in the corner of the bed, her arms around one knee.

"You were shaking and screaming." She said.

Their phones buzzed.

Brittany moved to answer hers, but Santana held her arm back.

She slowly looked at the text and screamed.

**This is what happens when you ask the wrong questions. This is rather Depressing, don't you think? Only five left. Four deaths.**

When everyone was asleep, the killer had struck.

The club each received a picture with it of Puck and Sugar, in the clearing. Puck had a knife in his head, in the middle of his Mohawk, and Sugar was covered in bullet holes.

There were only five club members left.

This time Santana lead the conference call, and included Mr. Schue.

They agreed to meet in the clearing.

/

Artie got there first. Next was Blaine and Finn, then Brittany and Santana, and then Mr. Schue.

They all were staring at the grotesque forms of Puck and his cousin.

"Any new information, other than this?" Mr. Schue finally asked.

Artie shifted.

To everyone's shock, he stood up.

"I can walk." He told them. The club's mouths popped open in an o.

"I got those treatments Tina was talking about. They started to work…and now I have full control over my legs."

Well, this was certainly new. Now no one could be ruled out.

/

The victim walked home as the club's meeting adjourned.

The killer followed behind him. This one would be simple.

The killer pulled a revolver from his pocket, and a knife from the other. He handed the victim a postcard and they walked to the clearing.

The victim sat helplessly while the killer cut an x on his back with the knife, barely wincing. The killer backed up and shot.

"X marks the spot, homo."

**Only four. Tsk, tsk, you guys are too easy to kill. Myself included.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Only four. Tsk, tsk, you guys are too easy to kill. Myself included.**

Santana shuddered and tried to call the rest of the club, plus Mr. Schue.

They couldn't get through to any of the males in the club, though. Just Mr. Schue, Brittany, and Santana.

Even though they guessed which person was gone, they kept trying to reach them. They finally got through to Finn and Artie, which meant Blaine was dead. Homocide.

They met in the field again, and found Blaine with a bleeding X scratched into his back. There was a bullet hole that went straight through his heart.

It was time to get the police involved.

The killer winked at the bushes where another minion was waiting. The minion sent out a message that was pre-written, should this happen.

**I have the power to kill you all in an instant. This will happen if you go to the police. **

The club shuddered and the subject was no longer reasonable.

They noticed the next one was Simple.

"That could mean that the death will be simple, the person won't be the brightest, or most likely both." Mr. Schue announced.

At the mention of the most likely scenario, Santana protectively covered Brittany.

The killer smiled.

"Okay, we're all sticking together from now on." Mr. Schue said.

The kids nodded.

They set up a temporary camp in the field. As soon as it got dark, the victim decided they had to pee. It was decided that another would go with the victim, to prevent an attack.

The killer shone a flashlight around, settling on the minion.

The minion understood and pulled a long item out of his pack.

The minion, known to most as Sebastian, locked in on the victim.

He shot, a perfect shot to the head. The victim fell, dead instantly.

When everyone was focused on the gunshot, the killer sent a text.

**Well, I guess you know who I am now. Next is Russian Roulette. What fun!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Well, I guess you know who I am now. Next is Russian Roulette. What fun!**

The remaining two watched as Santana emerged from the woods, with no Finn behind her.

They slowly turned around and saw a standing Artie. He was grinning madly, almost baring his teeth.

Mr. Schue stepped in front of the shaking girls. Artie snapped his fingers. Jesse and Sebastian emerged from the woods and swiftly bound him to a chair.

"Perhaps I should explain." He started.

"I was confined to this chair because I am clinically insane and it's easier than a strait jacket. I have a vendetta against you two. Santana, you stole Brittany from me. Brittany, you left me for her. So, let the game begin!" with this he handed them each a gun. "I think you are both familiar with Russian Roulette?"

Santana and Brittany hugged each other.

"I love you so much Brittany." Santana whispered.

"You too." Brittany said.

They knew that one of them would be dead within a few minutes.

Artie smiled cruelly. "Actually, there's a twist to this. You're not holding it to your head, you're shooting the other."

Santana and Brittany faced him in horror.

Sebastian and Jesse each pulled out a gun and held it to their heads to ensure their death.

Brittany gulped.

"I love you." She said.

"You too." Santana replied.

She shot. Nothing happened.

Santana shot. Nothing happened.

Brittany shot. Nothing happened.

Santana shot._ BANG_.

Santana had managed to miss her head and her heart, rather hitting her shoulder.

Brittany fell and Santana felt several tears run down her face.

Artie took the gun from her and held it to his head. The other two killers did the same.

He smiled.

"Congrats, you won. Bye."

Santana sank to the ground as they shot and fell. She grabbed Brittany, who surprisingly was still conscious.

She shook her shoulders slightly, but Brittany's eyes were unfocused.

Santana noticed the space that was now prominent in between her breaths, and she pulled off her shirt to staunch the wound. Mr. Schue managed to rip free of the chair and he started CPR as her breathing ceased. Santana called 911.

"Hello, what is your emergency?"

"Hi, yes, we have a major GSW in the field by Breadstix." She looked around, realizing that was exactly where they were.

The operator immediately sent an ambulance.

Santana covered her face with her hands as she madly started the kiss of life.

Brittany's eyes fluttered and she started breathing again, but they were shallow and quick.

"Tana I love you."

Santana's eyes were wet with tears as she stared into deep blue orbs that were slowly glassing over.

"Brittany I love you so much. Stay with me and focus on my voice."

"I-I-"

She shuddered.

Santana grabbed Mr. Schue's hand as her breathing slowed.

"And the songbirds, keep singing, like they know the score." She sang softly.

"And I love you I love you I love you, like never before." Brittany said, her breathing coming much shorter now. They heard an ambulance pull up directly to them and they grabbed Brittany.

Santana hopped in the ambulance.

"Please be okay Britt. Please don't let him win."

Brittany gripped her hand. Her lips were turning blue and she murmured, "Because of that anything I think anything's possible." And "Proudly so." And other quips like it until they reached the hospital. Santana gave her a kiss before she headed into surgery.

Hopefully she'd be okay.

**AN: Okay, I love Brittana so I couldn't kill them off. Yet. More later, I actually should not be on my laptop due to a concussion I have from running violently into a door. No lie.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I changed POVs because this chapter needed it. You'll understand if you read on.**

* * *

><p>I felt my vision swim as pain exploded throughout my body.<p>

"Oh my god Santana." I heard a muffled voice say. I heard three BANGs, and then black.

I felt Brittany holding me. Mr. Schue came over and called 911.

I breathed in and out once I realized what had happened.

Brittany hadn't been shot, I had.

I smiled at her.

"I love you Brittany."

She smiled back sadly. "Tana, you are my world."

"Proudly so." I told her and stuck out my pinkie.

She grasped it in hers and uttered, "Because of that, I think anything's possible."

I noticed the dark liquid flowing from my stomach and I felt my grasp on reality start to fade.

I saw white and then the dark reality of my present. Two choices. Eternal happiness-without the one thing that made me happy. Or the hell of my life.

Brittany kissed my hand. "Santana, it's up to you now. Do whatever your heart tells you to, but know that if it's death, I'm dying too."

When did this girl get so… smart?

My eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

><p>I woke up on a hospital bed.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hopefully this was an adequate ending to this. I have like eight unposted stories that I'll get to, but right now I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed.<strong>

**I'd also like to thank ****astronot, who does not know it but formed this story. No lie. You caused me to change some people's deaths in their order and how they died, and every time I got a PM from you, something little or big in this story changed. So thanks. Also, yes, you can say you knew it.**

**So now that I'm done with my almost-acceptance speech, hope you enjoyed! The Hit Glist will be up soon, along with my reasoning for this story.**

**Almost finally, I wasn't kidding about the concussion. And I may do a sequel in the future, just not now.**

**_One down, fifteen to go._**


	13. Hit Glist: Warning contains spoilers

**Brutal.-Rory**

**Scary.-Sam**

**Harmless.-Quinn**

**Sad.-Mike**

**Deadly.-Mercedes**

**Sudden.-Tina**

**Abrupt.-Kurt**

**Untimely.-Rachel**

**Depressing.-Puck & Sugar**

**Homocide.-Blaine**

**Simple.- Finn**

**Russian.-Brittany...then Santana**

**Never.-Santana and Brittany**

**Me.-Artie**

Okay, so in case you didn't get why Artie went nuts here's the basic outline:

1 he's insane.

2 he had two girls 'stolen' from him, one by another girl.

3 I hate Artie and wanted to make him bad.

4 i suspected underlying hatred ever since the first time Bartie broke up.

/

Reasons I wrote this:

1 I felt serial killers were in need of ideas.

2 I read several fics on here like this and thought, I would change this or that.

3 extreme boredom.

So that explains it! Any questions, PM or Review!


	14. Regrets

To the reader:

It is with a heavy heart that I will say goodbye to this account. It will still be active, in case you want to read my horrible writing again. I had to sort through a lot of personal demons regarding my mental health and sexuality. Once that was done, I reread my writing here and decided two things:

a) I had a severe horrible case of writer's block.

b) my writing, for the most part, was horridly juvenile.

My new account is Captain Wednesday III. I don't know how often I will post things that you guys like, as I have fallen out of most of my old fandoms. Feel free to follow me or PM me with any questions.

Regrets,

Hannah


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